Mashire Chronicles I: Campion
by artemis8
Summary: The first in a (hopefully) long line of stories set in the world of Vampire: The Masquerade chronicling the sotry of the Mayshires, a well-to-do English family that, over the course of a century, spiral downward into the tragic world of the Kindred. Rated


The History, Endeavors, and Story of  
Campion Mayshire III. Alan +++++,  
  
Journal Entries: 1908  
  
August 9th, 1908  
  
This hereby being the first and, if I become very bored, one of the many entries into this journal. Upon coming to this place, the Thomas K. Gallagher School for Gentlemen and Ladies in Coldshore, England, I was given this leather-bound journal in which to keep school notes, addresses, dates, and the like. This section, the rear, was reserved for personal note taking and thoughts. As if I will require something such as that! Too much of my time will be spent evading that terrible American boy, Mr. Andrew Hollis, and his gangly group of minions, and of course keeping up with my considerable class work. Not that I will enjoy much of it. This is my third day here, and already I can tell I will not enjoy my time at this establishment. Should this journal find its way into the hands of the faculty, well so be it. I hope this expensive bit of leather and parchment will seem as a drunk's spittle in their faces. The only class that I will likely find vaguely interesting will probably be Fencing and Swordsmanship, taught by Mr. Ganges. My family's rapier, Swift Silver, had been untouched for generations, until I inherited it from my dead father, Campion Mayshire Jr., and dusted off the poor blade and gave it a few good thrusts and parries. The reason I shall enjoy it is simply because I actually get to use my dear rapier, and Mr. Hollis is also taking that class. His own clumsy swordsmanship, trained by some overrated instructor in New York, is, I must say, hardly comparable to my own. Perhaps some unfortunate accident will occur while I am taking this class. Hmmm.Perhaps this school won't be so bad at all.  
  
August 12th  
  
The strangest thing happened last night. A new girl, from Toulouse, France, came in. She is in a few of my night classes (in fact, I never see her during the day) including Fencing and Swordsmanship, and we seem to get along fairly well. I am tempted to say I have made a friend, although with my family's status in London and my somewhat repellant demeanor, I should be careful about what I consider this girl to be, and what she considers me in return. Besides, I have also seen her walking with Mr. Hollis and his friends. I suppose Foreign calls to Foreign. Her name is Angelique Boulier, and without getting too poetic, I would say her name fits her. She has luxuriously long black hair, which reaches down to her waist, pale skin that is cool to the touch (she brushed by me quite often last night and tonight) and beautiful eyes that, I am tempted to say glow, though such a notion is ridiculous. I have all but accused poor Angel of being a witch, but even her similarity to what women in the service of the devil are supposed to look like, she does not repulse me in the least. In fact.I almost can say I am attracted to the girl. But enough of these fool romance writings. The arrival of Angelique was not the only thing that occurred today which did not quite fit with the boundaries of normalcy. Mr. Hollis, who seems to consider Angelique his lady friend (I have to stop thinking about that girl!), has recently laid off in his tormenting of me. This could be any number of things. 1) He fears me finally, after witnessing my skill with Swift Silver, a Longsword, and an imported curved weapon from the Orient. 2) He is distracted by other things, perhaps his schoolwork, friends, family troubles, another victim(s), or other endeavors (Angelique being one of them.I cannot seem to get my mind off that girl!) 3) The man has finally found a conscience (last for the least likely prospect)  
  
August 21st  
  
Already this school is beginning to annoy me. With the exception of Angelique, everyone in this cursed building has turned to thinking of me as the naïve royal pain in the ass that unfortunately my colleagues of high standing seem to be dominated by. My beating the fencing teacher in what was supposed to be a simple example has not made me the poster child for the faculty. However, what I apparently lack in social graces, I make up for in my choice of company. Angelique and I skipped class tonight, or rather last night (at the writing of this, it will be the early morning of August 22nd) to walk the promenade outside (technically forbidden after eleven o'clock). She is.a most intoxicating woman. Smart, too. She knows the correct way to handle a blade, though hardly an able wielder. She recites poetry that seems to melt my icy exterior when she speaks it in that lovely voice of hers. She freely insulted the teachers and students here without a hushed voice, and tonight she picked an apple off one of the orchard trees and gave it to me. She told me "In the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as a god, knowing good from evil." Now I do not attend the Sabbath as I should, nor do I read the bible except to look up a verse or two, but I know that such a saying originally came from the mouth of the serpent Temptation. And, to no surprise.I am very tempted.  
  
September 2nd  
  
Andrew Hollis was sent home today. Sent home in a black casket. The boy was found in his dormitory last night, his neck snapped and throat cut, and a good deal of blood drained out of his body. The teachers postponed class for a day of mourning, and for the authorities to investigate. Frankly, I am not surprised the boy had a murderer after him. In fact, I'm only surprised this culprit did not act sooner. How he stood to watch Andrew all day while he had the means to kill him is a mystery that will likely baffle me until the end of my days on this earth. Angelique seemed even less shocked or in mourning. She seemed well enough, at least, to come to my dormitory tonight (somehow slipping past the constables patrolling and inspecting the school grounds) and, promptly began to kiss me. I of course was too surprised to do much of anything about it even if I had wanted to, which I most certainly did not. It was the first time I had been kissed out of hot passion, but by the way she used her tongue, her hands, her whole body, I did not believe she had never done this before. No, Mr. and Mrs. Boulier, whoever they were, had sent her off to a gentlemen and ladies' school for a reason, I believe. I was about to reassert myself to the situation when she broke off. She smiled at me with her head dipped and eyes hidden under her black bangs. She whispered "Soon. Soon you will have all of that which you desire". And she was gone. I do not mean, she opened the door, went out, and left, I mean she disappeared the moment I turned away, to give her a rose I had picked the night before. When I returned my gaze to her, the only thing left was a tiny note falling to the floor like a leaf from a tree. I opened it. The only thing in it read, "Tonight, I shall embrace you, my dear Campion." Those eight words took all the former heat out of my body, and replaced it with a cold, nervous feeling.fear.  
  
September 3rd  
  
I met Angelique later tonight, almost at dawn. She again began to kiss me, but this time I was prepared, and I pushed her away. She became angry, yelling that I was just like everyone else, that I didn't know a good thing when I saw one. I apologized, and I think she accepted, but still she was crying. Being a gentleman, I came behind her and put my arms around her shoulders, trying to make her feel better. She sighed, and then spun around and kissed me on the neck. At first I thought it would be just another kiss, but this time she bit me, hard. I am not sure if she broke the skin, although I don't think she did, because when I woke up later (yes, I passed out as she kissed me.it was like being rocked to sleep, a sensation that I find most alarming and repulsive) there were only teeth marks, but no scab of healing skin. She left another note for me, this one laying on my bare chest as I lay on my bed (apparently she took the opportunity to undress me down to my socks and skivvies), with the corners dipped in red fluid. This could have been my blood or hers; I really am not sure. It read "See me later in the courtyard again. Then we shall be together." The fear that has been growing inside of me since she promised to.embrace me, whatever that may mean.has increased tenfold. I am extremely apprehensive about this, and I intend to bring Swift Silver along with me. It is discourteous to bring a weapon to a meeting with a woman, but it would be stupid not to bring one to a meeting with this woman. Tomorrow night I intend to find out what this charade has all been adding up to. I have to, for me own sake. Besides.a gentleman never misses an appointment with a lady.  
  
September 3rd, Supplemental  
  
School today was the most nerve-racking day of my life. Every pencil was a spear; each stick of chalk was a stick of dynamite. I am sure I was sweating the entire day, and I was sent back to my dorm at roughly 4:30 because I became "sick" during Western history. I missed Fencing, but I doubt I would have been up to going through the Hallmark routine or practicing the Gentleman's sweep. I think if I need to use Swift Silver tonight, I will likely have to use slightly more barbarous tactics than the courteous forms taught in class. I pray that whatever Angelique has in store will not be too.unsavory. But then, I think the one who once answered my prayers is no longer listening.  
  
September 3rd, Supplemental  
  
This night changed my life.by ending it. I went out tonight to meet Angelique. I snuck past the guards and policemen, and entered the courtyard with my rapier drawn. I could not trust Angelique, and I was watching for her the way I am sure the rabbit watches for a seductive serpent.a fitting description, for both of us. It took her some time, but she finally showed up. She was unarmed, but hardly innocent looking. In fact.she was the exact opposite. Her black skirt and blacker small shirt looked sincerely unseasonable; I was clothed in an oversized sweatshirt and winter trousers.the night was unusually cold. A fitting setting, I suppose. She came to me, and made as if to put her arms around me. I brought Swift Silver up, the point inches from her breast. She only smiled, and moved the blade away with two fingers. She was amazingly strong.her left hand with only two fingers overpowered my entire right arm's strength. Then she did slip her arms around my neck, and kissed each of my eyes twice. She squeezed my right shoulder, hard, and it hurt so bad I had to drop Swift Silver. Then she smiled again, and released my arm. "What do you want with me, Angelique?" I asked her. "I want you, my dear Campion," She said, and made to kiss me on the neck. I pulled back as far as I could, and brought my chin down. "No, Angelique I remember what happened last time you did that." "Didn't you like it?" She asked me. "It was not undesirable. But I want an explanation. I think I am owed one." "What makes you think that?" "Because I am a damned human being, Angelique!" That was the first time I had cursed near a woman, much less to one. "And that, is why you are not earned it." And then she pulled my neck back, and bit me there. I lost consciousness again; fell asleep with Angelique's voice singing to me. It must have been at least five minutes later. I woke up, with her wrist to my lips, and hot liquid pouring into my mouth. It took me a moment to realize what it was.blood. I tried to pull away, but I was too weak. There was a cold feeling that I had never felt before, but could instantly identify: empty veins. "Ssshh.relax, Campion." Angelique whispered to me as her blood filled my mouth, and her other hand applied pressure to my throat so I would swallow. "Relax.relax." The next moment, a sharp blade exploded from her shoulder, and stopped mere millimeters from my face, spraying my cheeks and brow with even more of Angelique's sweet blood. She was pulled back when the blade (which my detached mind identified as a Gothic-style Bastard sword) retracted, and her wrist withdrew, leaving a smear of red warmth on my lips and chin. My entire face was positively covered in crimson. Only my eyes and eyelashes remained untouched. Angelique screamed, but it sounded more from anger than from pain. In fact, arm did not seem inhibited in the least. Behind her, in my blurred vision, I saw two men, one of whom I recognized as a teacher from the school.one of them was Mr. Ganges, the Fencing and Swordsmanship teacher. "Angelique, you are extremely rash, do you know that? First completely draining the American boy and killing him, and now going for an Embrace with this Mayshire? What makes you think that you should deserve such fun on school grounds?" Mr. Ganges asked her, cleaning the blade of the Bastard sword off on the grass. "He WAS MINE!!" Angelique screamed, and, with impossible speed, she ran behind Mr. Ganges and drew a knife. But the other man, moving with the same preternatural quickness, got behind her, and through her back down to the ground. Next, he drew a wooden stake from his longcoat, and threw it down onto Angelique's chest. She screamed again, and her body went rigid. "Well, that went faster than I had anticipated," Mr. Ganges said, and produced a cigarette. He lit up, offered one to the other man, who shook his head. Mr. Ganges shrugged, and lifted up Angelique's unmoving body. "Well, shall we be going then?" "What about the boy?" the other man said with a thick Middle Eastern accent. "She did not give him enough vitae. He will not rise, and the blood is all but gone from his body. Let him die. It will perhaps be more merciful then what Angelique had in mind for him." Then, everything went black, and I once more fell asleep.although this time it was not with the silky voice of a fallen angel whispering to me.  
  
September 7th  
  
This entry is being written by Mr. Ali Bin Hassan, of Clan Assamite. This is NOT in Campion's journal  
  
Mr. Ganges and myself left the boy there at first, both as an act of mercy, and to make a statement to the other Ravnos who might be lurking school grounds. He was in deep pain, and any attempt to heal the boy would raise too many questions among the schoolteachers and the resident doctor. Questions we could not answer without breaking the Camarilla Masquerade. I think what drew me to convince my Ventrue colleague to save the boy somehow, was his weapon, lying useless on the ground. I picked it up, reading the Inscription on the side. Swift Silver. The blade smelled old, at least forty years. The boy had inherited this from his ancestors. And the fact that he bothered to bring it with him to this meeting.well, I felt I had to do something. While Assamites are, yes, assassins and killers, we have a strict code of honor, as well as personal virtues. One of my personal rules is this: never leave a fallen warrior on the battlefield for his body to be wasted on the unforgiving earth. I walked back to the boy, and picked him up. Mr. Ganges was quite flustered about that. "What are you doing?!" he asked me. "I told you to let him be dead" "He is not dead," I told him "And if I am to remain loyal to myself, I will not let him be so if I can help it." "You Mohammedan fool, if he is Embraced and he turns on us, you will be blamed for this, but we will both suffer!" "Maybe. But I will not live forever. Neither will you. This is the closest either of us will get to bearing children. Besides.you said not long ago that you were looking for an apprentice." He sighed, and I still do not think he liked the idea. But, there was no way I was just going to lay the boy back down now. I couldn't, not after picking him up and feeling that cold fire still burning in his heart. "Fine, Assamite. But only on one condition." It turned out the condition was to be four. They were as follows: Mr. Ganges would be the one to Embrace him. The boy would learn only Ventrue Disciplines. He would be trained and taught as a Ventrue. He would never learn who had saved his life.  
The fourth I had added myself. I did not want the boy to know me, In fact I would have preferred if he never knew I existed. But I needed to stay with Mr. Ganges for another month, per the contract and orders. And besides.maybe I couldn't teach him Disciplines, but there is more one Kindred can learn from another. Today the boy is still unconscious. Mr. Ganges has Embraced him as a Ventrue, and we are waiting to see if the boy survives his first nights. The boy might not want his new existence, but he will at least know what all his life has been hidden from him. And I think he will make an excellent Vampire.if he survives.  
  
September 9th  
  
I found myself today in a carriage, moving. I started and shook myself instantly awake. It was most likely just to move me to a hospital, after what had happened on September 3rd (I noticed that I woke up almost instantly, even though I should have been drowsy and slow moving), but after that night, I could not trust the 'most likely' and 'probably'. It took me a moment, but I noticed the Arabic man from that night sitting across from me in the carriage. "Are you well?" he asked, in his thick accent. "You tell me. You've been watching me for six days-" I stopped. How did I know it had been six days? Or that he had been watching me? "Surprising, is it not? The sudden rush of knowledge, wisdom, strength." "What did you do to me?" "I did nothing. Mr. Ganges is the one who embraced --h" "What in the name of God are you talking about? Embracing? What are you.What am I?" "Have you heard of the legends about Vampires?" "Of course. Dracula, and the like. "Oh yes, Vlad Dracul Tsimicze. He is how most Western mortals know about us. Or, at least think they do." "Us? Are you saying, that you believe yourself a Vampire?" "No. I am saying that I know I am one. And so are you." I was silent for a long time. This is impossible...the story of Dracula -- or as this Mohammedan man called him, Vlad Dracul Tsimicze -- is just that, a story. Still, I can think of the legends and relate them to past events. I only saw Angelique (of who I believe to be dead) at night, and then she was pale and ghostly. Mr. Hollis had the blood in his body, mostly his neck, drained. If Mr. Ganges is also a Vampire, well.my Fencing class was at night. I stare blankly at the Mohammedan, who has gone to sharpening a long, slim knife of his. I think my jaw hung open slightly as I did. Because, little by little, this story was making sense. Which didn't make sense in and of itself. Vampires did not exist. I had been taught my whole life of facts such as this. Yet they did. It was a paradox of horrific parameters. Because, if Vampires existed.and with every second, it seemed more likely they did.Then so was I. "Prove it." I said. "Proof? You must not be a good English Protestant, if you have so little faith." "Prove it." I was becoming increasingly angry with this Mohammedan. He sat a moment, regarding me. Then he smiled. "I know just the way." Then, he lashed with his hands, using the same inhuman strength to grasp my throat, and squeeze it so it closed shut. This in and of itself was amazing, but what happened next was even better. Or worse I reacted to the attack by trying to pry the man's hands away. I couldn't.his strength was phenomenal. After two minutes of him calmly holding my throat in his hands, I was resigned that I was going to die, or at the very least, pass out. I didn't. After that time, I stopped struggling and realized something: my lungs were not burning, begging for air. My body did not demand oxygen. I relaxed, but I was still in shock. The Mohammedan released me, and nodded. "A corpse does not need air. Nor does it's throat break easily. That grip would have certainly killed a human." "So.what you have told me is all true?" "Oh yes. You.and I.and Mr. Ganges.are all Vampires." He said.and gave a small, sorry smile. "You made me like this?" "Actually, Mr. Ganges was the one who changed you, what we call the Embracing. Angelique.had plans of this like for you." "Why did you stop her?" "I was.hired to assist Mr. Ganges in the neutralization of Angelique, but only he knows the real reason." "You were.hired?" "Yes," he smiled again, this time fairly warmly, considering both our kind. "All will be explained to you in good time, young Campion. Or.would you like another name?" I thought about this, and shook my head. "I would like to keep what I can of my humanity. I shall remain Campion Mayshire." The Mohammedan nodded in understanding. " I understand. My name is Ali Bin Hassan. Welcome to the Masquerade." "The what?" Again he smiled. "As I said. In time, all will be explained to you."  
  
Novel Form, 3rd person POV: 1989  
  
The young-looking boy covered his head with an umbrella, and paced through the Collins Plaza parking lot. He wiped his brow, and no sweat, only rain, came away. He smiled. His humanity was left behind him by 81 years, and he did not miss it. Coming to the United States, a place with no culture of its own and therefore no real humanity, if you thought about it, seemed like the obvious thing to do. Not to mention the past troubles his homeland had been facing.what with the Germans and all, of course. The tall buildings on either side of him glared down like ceramic and steel monoliths, as if judging him.but really, what was there to judge? A body where there once had been a soul, a mind where once there'd been a conscience, and a breast where once there'd been a heart. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Barron Ganges had indeed taught him to be ruthless, and that for a vampire, to kill was to live. But Ali, old, dark, honorable Ali, had also taught him, in his own ways. And to respect the living was one of them. For they truly were the ones who went on forever. After they died, their souls went elsewhere, to Allah according to Ali. Kindred.just disappeared. All the more reason to stay alive as long as one possibly could. Which meant there were probably going to be a lot of hotel rooms in the near future if he was going to survive. At least this one was a nice one. The band of mortal hunters that was following him was not going to give up. Campion saw that quite easily enough, after they had come after him and nearly killed him back in St. Louis. He knew them all by name, and had even had an interesting, and somewhat lengthy, phone conversation with one of them, the young girl. Lisa Hindenburg was only ten years old. She had started hunting only a few months before her band had started on Campion's trail a year before. A Vampire had killed her parents, and she had actually called Campion up to demand who it had been that did this. The conversation had gone something along the lines of this: Campion: Mayshire, who is this? Lisa: Shut up. Shut up, and answer my questions, or my friends are going to kill you. C: Well that's a rather unorthodox way of demanding information. L: I mean it. Tell me, or they'll kill you. They're right outside your door right now. C: Really? So they are going to kill me whether I tell you anything or not. Right? L: . C: Listen, little girl, you are obviously very new to this, so let me give you a fighting chance and the opportunity to just admit that your friends are not outside my room. Trust me, my own friends would know if they were. L: Fine. But I have some questions, and I need you to answer them. C: What makes you think I will? L: Because I saw you help that little girl on the street last night. You gave her money when she didn't have any. You gave her four thousand dollars. C: How do you know about that? No one saw! I made sure of it! L: Because I was that little girl. C: You're kidding me. Well, this in an unexpected turn of events. I suppose you gave that money to your fellow hunters and they are now out to murder me with some new ammunition or other bit of weaponry that I bought for them. Maybe they are hiring another, more skilled hunter, maybe even another Vampire to hunt me down? L: No. I still have it. C: Why? L: Because. If you tell me what I want to know, I'll keep the money for myself, or maybe give it away to someone else on the streets. If you don't, I'll give it to them, and they'll do just what you thought they would. C: Perhaps you aren't so new at this. What is your name little girl? L: Lisa. Lisa Hindenburg. C: Very well. I am Campion Mays- L: I know who you are, silly. C: Silly? L: Yeah. Of course we know your name, how else would we hunt you? C: I suppose you have a point. Still, introductions were common in my time. L: Weren't you from England? C: You didn't call to talk about my past, did you? L: Oh, right! Well, do you promise to answer my questions? C: I don't see why not. Go ahead. L: You won't lie? C: A Mayshire always keeps his word. L: Cross your heart? C: I don't have a heart, little girl. L: Oh. Well, I guess I'll just take your promise. I need to know who killed my parents. C: Well, I don't know if I can help you with that. L: It was a Vampire, I'm sure of it. Tommy told me it was. C: Is Tommy your friend? L: He's my brother. C: All right. Well, can you give me some information about this Vampire that killed your parents? L: Well, he was tall and pale, and he was really ugly, like- C: Wait. You mean ugly like an old man is ugly, or like rotting skin and wicked claws? L: Umm.. the really ugly ugly. C: All right. That narrows it down a bit. Do you know where he came from? L: The sewers. He came out of a drainage pipe while we were taking a walk and grabbed mommy and daddy and pulled them under with him. C: Well, what I meant was, what city he was from. L: I don't know. C: That's all right. I think I know what kind of Vampire did it. L: There are different kinds? C: Of course. There are different kinds of people aren't there? L: Yeah. But Vampires aren't people. C: True, true. Look, let me make a few phone calls, and then I want you to do something. I want you to meet me at- L: NO!! You'll just try to suck my blood if I meet you! C: That won't happen. You remember how I said there are different kinds of Vampires? Well, my kind can't drink little girls' blood. L: What kind of blood can you drink? C: Teenage girls. L: I'm almost a teenager! C: Trust me Lisa, you're still too young for my tastes. Now, I can try to call you back later, but I don't think you'll be the first to answer. If I ask to talk to you, they'll listen and know what we're talking about. Now would your friends be happy to know that you are withholding money from their cause? Would Tommy be very happy? L: No.I guess not. C: All right. Then, if you are free, I want you to meet me at the Collins Plaza hotel at 9:00 tomorrow night. Can you be free then? L: Can it be at 10:00? C: I suppose. I'll meet you in the lobby. L: Okay. Goodbye Campion. C: Yes. Goodbye Lisa. And now, the time of night was 9:54. Campion popped his neck, and checked his pocket-watch for the ninth time since 9:50. She should be here any- "Don't move," A small voice behind him said, and Campion heard a hammer being pulled back on a gun. He smiled. "I thought so." He refolded the umbrella and sighed. "May I turn around?" "Yes. I thought you were going to meet me in the lobby?" "I decided to wait outside, make sure you weren't bringing your friends with you." Campion turned around and looked at the little girl. She was a little tall for her ten years, with freckles and red hair. She had small glasses that barely hung on her nose, and piercing green eyes behind them. She was wearing a black leather jacket that fit her a little too well, and blue jeans and a yellow shirt to go with that. "Well, you aren't exactly what I was expecting." "Yeah? Well, no offense, but I figured you looked just like what you do." "It's the tweed, isn't it?" "No. It's the skin." "Yes, that does tend to cause a few problems. I'd thank you not to comment any further on it." "Fine. You have a room?" "I do. Stay here and follow me in two minutes. My room number is 346." 


End file.
